


Interception

by Leyenn



Series: Untitled Susan/John [2]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never go looking for what you don't want to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interception

**Author's Note:**

> Post-_Exogenesis_.

He wouldn't have gone looking if he hadn't had suspicions, and he wouldn't have had suspicions if he hadn't been talking to Stephen the night before - so in a convoluted way, this was all Stephen's fault.

Although, he considered, it was pretty likely that Stephen was only considering the idea seriously enough to mention it, even in passing, because Mister Garibaldi had introduced it and Mister Garibaldi's sources were on a par with almost any on the station, even his own. If he were risking life and limb by considering it out loud, then there probably had to be something worth considering in the first place.

It was a tidy piece of logic that neatly removed all blame from him, should he be enough of a disgrace to his training to actually get caught doing this. In all honesty it didn't make Marcus feel much better, but it was a good head start.

Of course, he took some precautions. He made certain, through a series of convoluted and ingenious dead ends, that almost no one - certainly no one in Earthforce, present acquaintances excepted - could have tracked his path through the computer system. He was rather proud of it, actually. Always the way: good work always meant not being able to tell anyone about it.

His previous experience with the fairer, not to mention wilier, sex, kept him in the mistaken belief that finding some concrete evidence of those suspicions would be a relatively simple task for almost twenty minutes. It was about then that he remembered who he was dealing with, and decided in that slow incremental way that deviousness tended to inspire (on the grounds that he was already wading up to his shoulders in trouble, so neck height wasn't much of a further stretch), to get... well.

Marcus sat back, looking at the screen. There was no other word for it. This was dirty work now.

On the other hand, it was in her public mail, accessible with a simple pass code rather than the complex encryptions of the private Earthforce system. And on the third hand, he'd already done the worst part by - accidentally, as it happened, by pure fluke of over-efficiency - accessing that mailbox in the first place. If Susan ever discovered he'd been poking around in her records, she'd presume he had opened it even if he didn't, and he'd be just as dead with even less to show for it.

So really, a sin was a sin, and size was relative.

But nevertheless, his hand hovered over the control, ready to move on. It would be a bad idea, really. A very bad idea.

On his fourth non-existent hand, he counted the possibility that there was nothing else in the entire physical memory of Babylon 5 that could prove even inconclusively that he was wasting his time, like Stephen had said. If there wasn't, then he was back to the frankly terrifying idea of actually having to ask her.

It wasn't that he felt particularly incapable of framing the question of dating to anyone, or framing this particular question. After all, 'are you single?' was practically a proposal in some of the bars in which he did most of his business - and the answer didn't always matter. And there was the matter of having lived among the Minbari, and the list of rituals that still started up in his head when he thought about it could possibly have stripped the mystery from any romantic encounter. Just because he wasn't physically experienced, he didn't make the mistake of considering himself still _innocent_.

Really, he was only going to glance at it, at most. Just enough to conclude... whatever he was going to be concluding, which was most likely that Susan did indeed have plans tonight that didn't include him, and wasn't just prevaricating for the ninth time.

Or tenth, counting that time in the corridor.

He twitched his fingers.

It stared at him from the screen, taunting him. It was a single vid file at the top of her list of mail - hence, his accidentally noticing it - and it was marked simply; _'Thought you'd appreciate a copy of this. See you tonight. John.'_

His fingertip twitched a little more than it should have, and the screen went dark. A spinning counter appeared in one black corner - and then, before he could wake the small, sane percentage of his brain to move another finger, stopped and began to tick over into seconds.

In his defence, he _had_ had a small list of expectations and the image on the screen didn't meet any of them. It did in fact leap over them in a single bound and go heading off in another direction entirely.

  


*

  


_The first thing that's noticeable is a fairly close-up and clear picture of someone's bed; the second thing, as some lights come up, is Sheridan, talking. "You sure about this?"_

Susan's voice comes from somewhere behind the camera angle. "Like you said the first time around, I don't usually do things I don't mean. I think this probably falls somewhere at the top of that category."

"There's always a first time."

"Well, it's not tonight." She steps into the camera's view, wearing a long black silken thing, and sits down on the bed with one foot tucked beneath her other thigh, revealing a slight glimpse of skin. "Would you me a favor and shut up?"

Still out of sight, Sheridan laughs."Anything else you'd like?"

Susan leans back, and that black silk really does look very good on her, clinging to all the right curves in all the right places and revealing more skin now than should be allowed. "Yeah. Get over here."

"With pleasure, Commander," and Sheridan's voice moves as he steps into frame on the other side of the screen and plants one knee on the bed, close enough to lean over her and claim a kiss. He's bare chested, only dressed at all in a pair of dark blue boxers that could possibly be Earthforce issue. Given how deliciously taboo the situation obviously is, they probably are.

"So, what do you want to do?" she asks, and he chuckles.

"Maybe we should have planned this a little more beforehand."

"I'll take that as a 'fuck me'," she says in a playful voice, and leans forward to rest her hands on his shoulders and pull them together. "Good idea, Captain. Let's do that."

Sheridan groans when she says his rank in a way that obviously has nothing to do with displeasure. He slides one hand under her hair, buries his fingers in it, and lowers his head to lick the side of her neck. She arches into his mouth, purring, almost laughing.

"Mmm. Do I taste good?"

He bites lightly at the line of her jaw: she moans. They're kneeling up on the bed now, pressed close, her arms around him and her palm on his back, and her head tips to the side a little. She sweeps her hair around and out of the way with her other hand, making soft noises of encouragement as his mouth works down her throat and then back up, languorously, to find her lips.

"Always," he says clearly, right before he kisses her again.

Her hand moves down the curve of his spine and slips under his shorts, the other curling under his arm and around the blade of his shoulder, and he nudges his fingers beneath the thin satin straps and tugs them down to slip against her upper arms. They're still kissing, a hot and lazy kiss, save for the few moments of whispered laughter and not-quite-audible words that only get swallowed up again in the eagerness of it.

Eventually it stops, for want of breathing if nothing else, and Susan starts trailing kisses across other parts of his skin instead. His chest rises heavily and she pushes closer to him.

"What do you want, right now?" He asks it sincerely, with an undertone to the words. She looks up and smiles, puts her hand on his face and traces her fingers around to his lips.

"I want," she says, looking like she pushes lightly at his hip with her other hand, with dark, smoky eyes, "you to kiss me everywhere, and then I want you," and her fingernail flicks against his lower lip, "to make me scream your name."

He chuckles throatily. "Noted," he teases, obviously trying to make it sound slightly official. It doesn't work. "And anything else?"

"Yeah." Her eyes flash, perhaps only half playful. "Keep asking me what to do."

"Anything you say," Sheridan agrees, and then he pushes her back onto the bed until her head is on the pillows and her hair is mussed around her face, making her splutter for a moment as she makes a good attempt not to suffocate which is quickly swallowed in Sheridan kissing her again.

He kisses her everywhere, with attention to every rise and curve of her body spread out before him. He kisses the bare skin of her shoulders and the softness of her mouth, tidies her hair back to lift it with his fingers and kiss it, making her sigh and smile and stroke the back of his neck gently. He kisses her body through the silk of her lingerie, drawing circles around and over her breasts with the wet heat of his tongue, leaving creases and darker trails in the black silk. He kisses down the length of her stomach in a single unbroken line, while her legs wrap around his and her hips twitch in anticipation; he kisses her hip, lightly, presses silk to her skin with the hot tip of his tongue, and she lets out a soft cry.

His hand takes the place of his tongue, stroking the swell of her hip; he slides down the bed between her legs and kisses her thigh, the inside of her knee, bunching up silk with his other hand to reveal her skin underneath. He kisses the arch of her foot and the inside of her ankle, kisses a scar on the top of her foot and another halfway up her calf. He traces a word on the inside of her thigh with his mouth and she laughs.

"Yes," she says, still laughing, and all the time moving sensuously beneath him. "Very."

He pushes her nightgown up further: she lifts her hips and his hands gather silk around her waist while he lowers his head and kisses her belly, dips his tongue into her navel, makes her start. Her legs open under him and he takes advantage, more kisses that make her growl contentedly and squeeze his shoulder with her fingers. He kisses her until she starts to squirm, and then his mouth begins to meander in an exploratory path up her body. At the end of it he draws the curve of her left breast in kisses and works his hand under the crumple of silk, around her back, guiding her up.

She lifts her shoulders just enough and tugs her nightgown off over her head, dropping it onto the pillow and falling back onto the bed; he's already kissing her naked breasts, flicking her nipple with his tongue and cradling her body to his mouth with both hands as if he can't get enough of her taste.

She breathes something that might be his name, and a melody of other words around it in Russian. He turns his head and kisses her heart, and then the moment passes with an encouraging caress of her hands on his back, pulling him to her.

"Damn, you're gorgeous," he mutters, smiling. She laughs, stretching up to taste his lips, to suck his lower lip between her teeth and bite slowly until he jerks against her. Letting him break away, her laughter is mischievous.

"Did you want something, Captain?"

He glares at her playfully, and then his voice takes on a rough, honest tone. "I want," he says slowly, sincerely, looking her in the eyes, "you to take me in your hand, push me into you as deep as you can take, and then I want you to come first with me inside you." He grins, a dangerous, bright smile. "How's that for planning?"

Her eyes burn: she reaches for his shorts, shuddering with anticipation, and he arches up for the couple of moments it takes her to get them off him and be reaching down.

Sheridan groans and rolls onto his back, drawing her on top of him with her hand between them, the muscles flexing lightly in her arm as she rocks her hips with the movement of his. She sits up, straddling his thighs: her hand is around his hard cock in front of her, beneath her, and she watches him enjoy that with a wicked smile on her lips. She moves her thumb around the base of it, tugging gently at the wiry hair there while he murmurs something pleased; she explores the length of him with both hands, taking her time, watching the tension build in the sharp beat of his breathing - and then pulls slowly up once, rubs even slower down.

"Susan-" He gasps her name and clenches a fist in the sheets. She twists her wrist just a little, just enough, and Sheridan chokes helplessly. "Susan, god, you'll make me come..."

"And we don't want that," she agrees, her eyes sparkling.

"Not yet," he says, although it must only be by a thin thread. "Want to feel you first."

Her hand stops. She kneels up, lowers herself down, her hand still around his cock and guiding him inside her, and their voices overlap in soft gasps, a tangle of languages.

"John..." she says. She hasn't said his name before now, as if she's saved it to whimper just when it matters. "Oh," then, "mmm, you feel good."

"Yeah?" He sounds slightly breathless himself. "So do you." He reaches up to stroke her body, a long caress that swirls around her nipple and ends over her hip, pulling her down further, right onto him until she puts her head back and moans.

"Oh, yeah... oh god, John..." and her hips start to rock, pulling him with her, involuntary and slow. "God, oh god," and a mouthful of Russian again, her fingers pressing into his skin now and trying to hold him where she wants him as they move. He growls and bites his lip, less gentle than she was with the gesture. His hips thrust up sharply and she cries out, writhing on him. "Oh_ \- oh, oh my god..." There's a dark, beautiful laugh in her voice as she whispers, "and I didn't think you could go any deeper-" and then he thrusts again and she stops speaking, or at least stops being coherent. Mumbles of half-English spill between her lips on the rhythm of his thrusts, filled and surrounded by moans of pleasure._

"Susan," he pleads, and it is pleading. He pries her fingers from his hip and pushes them between her legs to where he's buried in her, his eyes closing for a moment just as hers do. "Go on," he murmurs, works her fingers between her folds, into the wetness of them both. "I love watching you do this."

She smiles without opening her eyes. Somehow she knows that he has, that he's watching, as she finds her clit with a fingertip and circles it. Once is enough to make her gasp, and tremble, and he grips her wrist to hold her hand there. "Let me feel you come," he murmurs roughly from beneath her, and she groans and moves her fingers again, fast and sharp, tangling with his as her other hand comes to press his own closer to her sex.

Sheridan grins and rocks his hand with hers, following her fingers. "God, you're wet..."

She gasps, her fingers moving harder, and then she goes rigid and throws her head back and screams his name amongst another vulgar growl of Russian. Perhaps he can translate it, or not. Sheridan only groans and moves against her shaking body as she comes, still pushing into her deeply enough to make her shudder and sob with release at every thrust until she collapses into his arms, spent, trembling, all but crying.

He holds her and kisses her mouth, nuzzling her, until she says something that's muffled in his kiss and he groans and thrusts again. She breathes sharply and then begins to whisper, her voice oddly soft.

"Come on, John," she breathes, barely audible against the skin of his neck. "I'm wet for you, you know that? You feel so good - oh, yes, like that, come on, yes - oh-"

She bites his shoulder, a second shuddering climax taking her: he shouts her name a moment later as his orgasm tears through him and their voices mingle again, all incoherent words and clear, fierce emotion.

  


*

  


He shut off the screen and sighed.

On the way out of his quarters, he tipped the dozen wilting roses into the trash can. So much for that idea.

  


*

  



End file.
